


Monster Theory

by barbaricyawp



Series: Monster Theories [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Age Regression, Bed time stories, Bruce Banner Centric, Fluff, Monsters, Other, PTSD, fanfiction for alexander pierce should have died slower, h/c, nonsexual age play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-18
Updated: 2015-06-18
Packaged: 2018-04-04 23:48:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4157574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barbaricyawp/pseuds/barbaricyawp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce reads Bucky a bedtime story. Bucky likes Grover and Sesame Street. Nothing bad happens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Monster Theory

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lauralot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lauralot/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Some Place to Go](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3752647) by [Lauralot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lauralot/pseuds/Lauralot). 



> Fanfiction for one of my favorite series. Believe it or not, I actually started writing this before "Some Place to Go" was published. Debated not posting it, then posted it anyway. Lucky you.

\---

“We make our own monsters, then fear them for what they show us about ourselves.”  
—Mike Carey, _The Unwritten, Vol. 1: Tommy Taylor and the Bogus Identity_

\---

Bruce spends virtually no time in his own room. Tony has a few cots set up in the lab and Bruce has appropriated one for himself. Equipped it with a lavender duvet, pillows, and a milk crate to serve as a bedside table. Three years ago, in Nepal, Bruce would have considered this setup an overly indulgent luxury. Now he’s starting to believe, with the help of Tony’s goading, that he might deserve nice things.

But he eventually has to wander out of the lab, up to his floor, and into some clean clothes. When he gets to his room, there’s a book lying on the center of his bed. It’s placed squarely so its sides are parallel to the length and width of the bed.

Bruce leans over to read the title, _The Monster at the End of this Book_ with a blue figure that Bruce can vaguely identify as a muppet. 

(As a child, Bruce wasn’t allowed many books because they were expensive. But he was allowed TV on basic cable. Which meant hours and hours of Sesame Street and Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood. Bruce especially liked Oscar the Grouch who wasn’t really mean at all, just looked it.)

It takes him a moment, but Bruce knows Bucky has put it there for him, He’s probably hiding somewhere near his room if not in it.

Last week, the rest of the Avengers were out on a non-Hulk mission. Bucky, like usual, regressed almost immediately after Rogers left the tower and that left Bruce to babysit. When Bucky was too shy to try his usual activities, Bruce put on Sesame Street for him, because it was his favorite as a child.

Bucky hadn’t said anything, just inched closer and closer to the television screen. When Big Bird came onto the screen he let out a sound that verged on a giggle but was closer to a screech of excitement. “I know him!”

Bruce hadn’t pressed. None of the Avengers had mentioned showing Bucky the program, which means he must have learned it somewhere else. Somewhere that Bucky didn’t need to be reminded of.

Now, Bruce picks up the book and flips through it quickly. It’s cute, but Bruce hasn’t read it before. He instantly loves it. 

When Bucky first arrived to the tower, he was not regressed. But Bruce still recognized something in him. The distrustful caginess. How small he curls his body. Bruce does the same thing after coming down from the Hulk. He did the same thing when he hid from his father.

_Am I so bad that he has to do this to me?_

After Bruce’s mother died, he spent a lot of time in the basement, hiding between the boxes. This worked until he got bigger. Too big to fit. Then the real problems started.

There’s not much to remember after he got bigger. Bruce reasons his brain has blocked off most of his memories the way Bucky blocks out his own. This is another thing Bucky and Bruce share. 

That and the carried sense of shame. The first instinct to apologize. To wonder what made them so horrible to have deserved this.

Bruce turned this shame into anger. Bucky seems to have turned it into fear.

Bruce knows fear pretty well too.

 _You’re so important. Everyone is happy to see you. You’re doing such a great job, Bucky. I’m proud of you._ Sometimes the words catch in his throat and he has to say them low so as not to cry. Bruce is proud of Bucky. He’s come farther than Bruce ever has.

Bruce picks up the book. He always liked Grover, maybe even liked him best. He looked closer to teddy bear than monster.

“Do you want me to read this for you, Bucky?” He asks the room. There’s silence, but Bruce gives it some time.

A small voice murmurs a tentative, “Uh huh,” from Bruce’s closet.

“Do you want to come out here and read it?” Bruce already knows the answer, so he sits a few feet from his closet door. On the floor so that if Bucky does come out, Bruce won’t be taller.

(Bruce is never taller, actually. He’s a fair amount shorter than just about everyone on the team, save Nat. But five-year-old Bucky doesn’t make Bruce feel shorter. He makes him feel monstrously enormous. He has no idea why Bucky isn’t scared to death of him.)

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Bucky. I’ll just read it out here, okay? I don’t mind.”

The book works better with pictures, so it won’t make much sense unless Bucky finds the courage to sneak out. But Bruce reads it anyway.

He’s nearing the end when Bucky comes into his line of sight. He’s wearing his adult pajamas and clutching the bear that Steve gave him. He must have regressed after getting ready for bed.

Bucky sits right in front of Bruce, legs folded, leaning forward. Tasha once said that Bruce reads better than Steve, but Bruce doesn’t believe her for a second. He’s too shy to do voices like Steve.

But he has a good bedtime story voice, or so they say, and Bucky looks like he needs something to soothe him. He gets all keyed up when Steve isn’t around. 

(Bruce thinks he understands the feeling. Without Tony bossing him around, making jokes, pumping up his ego Bruce starts to feel a little lost. He doesn’t need Tony like Bucky needs Steve—Bruce doesn’t need anyone—but it’s easier. Being around the whole team makes things easier.)

_I’m better off alone. The big guy can only get me when I’m alone._

Bruce hasn’t had anyone to watch his back in a long time. He suspects Bucky hasn’t either. He’s still jumpy and cagey. Transitions like these take time. Feeling safe takes time.

“Do you want me to start over so you can see the pictures?”

Bucky nods. He’s got a shy nod because he isn’t supposed to ask for things. Bruce used to be like that. He craved some things so bad it made his stomach hurt, but he couldn’t ask for them.

So Bruce gets onto his bed and pats the edge. “You can jump up if you like?” 

Commands are easier for Bucky, he knows. But he also knows that Bucky doing what Bucky wants is important. He talks about these things with Steve and sometimes with Sam as well. Small steps.

Bucky shifts into the bed and the mattress sags where he sits. He curls his knees to his chest, chin to his knees, the bear crushed between his thighs and chest. Like this, Bucky seems compact enough to sit in Bruce’s lap. 

(Bruce used to have this fantasy, back before his father got bad. He fantasized that he’d crawl into his father’s lap and his father would wrap his arms around him to rest a story book in Bruce’s lap. He’d read Bruce the book before bed and kiss his head when it was over. Bruce fantasized his father tucking him into bed, promising that he was proud of him, and wishing him sweet dreams.)

_I’m proud of you. You’re so important. Sleep well._

"Alright, The Monster at the End of this Book...

—

Bruce reads the story twice before Bucky starts to wind down. He’s leaning slightly towards Bruce and he yawns wide. Shoulders low, eyes hazy. The teddy bear is drooping too, his head on Bucky’s knee. 

(Bruce never had many stuffed animals growing up. He doesn’t know if Bucky had one as a child either. A real child, that is. Bruce has a vague idea that stuffed rabbits are to be avoided for this version of Bucky's childhood.)

“Do you want me to read you another story?”

Bucky shakes his head. He’s staring at the last page of the book. Grover is relieved that he’s the monster at the end of the book. “Uh-uhn.”

“Okay,” Bruce says easily, “Do you need a snack or anything before bed?”

(When Bruce was little and his mother was still around, she warmed milk with honey for Bruce to drink before bed. She said it was medicine for sweet dreams and Bruce believed her. Until he didn’t. Bruce won’t tell the same lie to Bucky.)

“Uh-uhn.” Bucky pulls his bear to his chest. He wants Steve. Bruce wishes he could give him Steve.

They’ve reached the point where Bruce is at an impasse. He doesn’t like bombarding Bucky with questions—it might overwhelm him. But he doesn’t want to tell Bucky what to do either. Bruce doesn’t really know how to handle children. He suspects he’d make a terrible father.

“Um,” Bucky starts. He’s pulling at his sleeve, the one that covers his metal arm. “Doctor Banner?”

“Yes?”

Bucky’s mouth opens and then closes. He won’t be able to go through with it. “Never mind.”

“Okay. Let me know if it comes back to you.”

Bucky nods. “Can I go to bed now?”

(As a child, Bruce never liked going to bed alone. He didn’t like turning off the lights and walking to his bed in the dark. He didn’t like waiting in that bed, fearing the monsters underneath or his father in the living room.)

“Do you want me to walk you to your room?”

Bucky nods again so Bruce climbs off the bed and offers to take Bucky’s hand. It’s a little awkward given the inches of height difference, but they do just fine. Bucky never seems to notice, anyway.

When Bruce is left to take care of Bucky, he helps with his bedtime routine from a distance. Pepper is better at this, but Bruce can do in a pinch. He stays just outside the door frame, pressed sideways so as not to block the exit. Trying to make himself small and unintimidating. Bucky gets himself into bed and then Bruce plugs in his nightlight, wishes him goodnight, and turns out the lights.

Routines are good. Routines are safe.

But before Bruce can do his part of the routine, Bucky changes it.

“Doctor Banner?”

“Yes?”

“Do you think Grover’s a monster?”

Bruce rolls his lips in. He speaks slowly. “I think there are different kinds of monsters. Monsters that are only considered monsters because they’re different and monsters that choose to hurt people.”

“And Grover is the first kind?”

“Grover is definitely the first kind.” And so are you. “Grover is kind and special and good.”

“So he’s the good kind.”

“Absolutely.”

Bucky thinks this over. Then nods. “Bucky Bear says goodnight.”

“I say goodnight back. And goodnight, Bucky.” Bruce turns off the light and starts to close the door. “You’re a good—“ Bruce falters. He doesn’t know why he felt the need to add this. Why he didn’t just say I’m proud of you or Sleep well, Bucky. This seems like the kind of phrasing that could be triggering. “I mean, you’re the good kind too.”

Bucky doesn’t say anything so Bruce closes the door. He waits to hear Bucky settle and leaves after a few minutes.

_Am I the good kind of monster?_

**Author's Note:**

> "Am I so bad that he has to do this to me?" is paraphrased from a documentary called [Kid Criminals.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fdf6O-qp_Ms) It refers to what a child thought about his abusive father.


End file.
